Weighing Life

Late Summer/Early Autumn 1996
I stood there in the dark, my room partially illuminated by the lamp by bed – a futon with a green mattress. My desk across from me with my typewriter and miscellaneous junk.

I looked at the couple pills in my left hand and the bottle in my right, contemplating my future.

.

A few months prior…
I’d applied to work at a day care facility at the beginning of 1996. They were willing to intrust into my hands a class of three year olds that I would create lesson plans for and teach.

I worked my way through finger printing, back ground check, and Tuberculosis testing. I took it with great ease when my TB test registered just shy of being positive. They said I was cleared, but I needed to come back in six months to be retested.

I wound my way through the rest of spring and early summer. Snow storms, loading grade school children on and off the school busses, and teaching colors / shapes / numbers to a class of three year olds that had stolen my heart.

I soon found myself back at the county clinic getting a repeat TB test. Within a few minutes the results were obvious as a giant welt formed on my arm.

I remember a rush of the unknown sweeping over me those next couple weeks. Fears of what might or would happen. Isolation. Being torn away from my friends. I remember waiting for an chest x-ray and being relieved when the results returned that the illness was inactive. I only had a positive skin test.

I had to go on medication. Horrible medication. For the first several weeks I had to have blood work done to insure my liver was not getting damaged. I gained weight – lots of weight. My already acne prone skin broke out even worse. And I fought depression like I never had previously.

Fast forward back to late Summer/early Autumn 1996
This wasn’t the first time I’d thought about ending it all, and it wouldn’t be the last; but it was the closest and realest I’ve ever actually come.

I remember standing there in my room looking at the few in one hand and the many in the other. I remember thinking, “I could just take all these pills and be done with it.” I remember shuddering back to reality and quickly putting the lid on the bottle and taking the couple Ibuprofen for my headache.

They say that suicide is a cowardly act, and in part I agree. But I’ve looked down that barrel and know with great intimacy how much it feels that sweet release will come if you were just separated from life.

It’s been just over 15 years since that night. I still battle with how much easier everyone else’s life would be if I wasn’t a part of it; but thankfully I’ve never found myself in the place I was that night.

Thank you for sharing this very personal testimony. I have a "heart" for people who have been, are and contemplate suicide. There is so much that goes on that we don't understand. It's a toxic mental breakdown and a very real and emotional roller coaster. Some people don't even show signs of suicidal acts.
I'm so glad that you are with us. You have so much to offer, your gifts, your personality, your faith. Those who know you (even if only through these tubes) appreciate what you bring to this world. No person is ever a mistake. We are all gifts that God brings to us. Every.Single.One.Of.Us.

Thanks for your transparency and honesty in sharing your story. I came through {am still coming through} depression and was there as well. I didn't care if I lived or died - it didn't matter to me. It's scary to look back, and even share those feelings. I'm praying for you :)

I am wrapping my arms around you and squeezing tight. I am so glad you are in my life. It is an immensely more beautiful life with you in it and I don't even have the privilege of having you in 'real life'.
Thank you for your bravery and sharing your heart and story.
You're making me feel more brave and wanting to share mine as well.

Thanks for sharing that difficult time in your life. The "sweet release" is a lie from the father of all lies... and so is the thought that everyone's life would be easier without you. You are valuable, and I am so very grateful that I have made your acquaintance through both Twitter and your blog. I, and many, many others are blessed BECAUSE you are here. I wish you a very blessed day.

Don't think for a second that anyone's life would be better without you. It's a thought I've had several times of myself, but now hearing you 'say' it, I know it's so untrue. I am so glad for this life, the one I know you in. You are such a blessing, miss Prudy chick.

Oh, Prudence. You are so brave. I am grateful that you are still here. You have been such a blessing in the short time that I've known you--the love you feely give to others is overwhelming and so so admirable. Praying for you this week as you continue to be vulnerable. Love you deeply.

Oh Prudy...I know this scenario all too well. I can think of many nights...some not that long ago...where I was sitting there thinking it would be better just to be done with all of the crap of life and go to eternal life with Christ. After all, we know where we're going, and it's a whole lot better than here.
It's so brave of you to share this story and I'm proud to be a web buddy of yours.

thank you so much for opening your heart so wide for all to peak inside. i've been sharing my journey through abuse as a little girl and have thought those very same things. i understand what it's like to say you battle with those thoughts often... i do as well. i'm thankful for your journey.

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about me

Prudence is a 30-something writer who lives in Arizona with her husband Shawn and their chihuahuas Lengua and Zeus. She writes her life, her experiences and her crawl back to hope. Eventually, she hopes to visit India – a place that’s captured her heart without ever stepping foot on the soil.